


The Kings and the Elf Lord

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Erebor, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Mirkwood, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethril, the elf lord, has lusted after his king for a long time and he’ll do anything to break up the relationship between Thranduil and Thorin.  He is trusted by both of them but is the enemy within.  Will his plans succeed and will all those years of waiting pay off?</p><p>Previous stories in this series: King of the Antlered Throne, King of the Marble Halls, Kings of the Forest and Mountain.  New follow-up story:The Kings and the Princes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strength and Balance

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth story in my Two Kings series and refers you back to King of the Marble Halls, where Thranduil asks a friend, Ethril, to pretend to be his lover so that he can drive Thorin away. But was it all pretence on Ethril's part? Apparently not.
> 
> Hope you continue to enjoy this series and I look forward to hearing from you.

The Kings and the Elf Lord

 

Chapter I

 

Strength

 

In Mirkwood, Ethril was waiting for the return of Thranduil, his king.  It seemed to him sometimes that this was all he had done for the past year. No - more than that: it seemed that he had waited for him half a lifetime.

 

Hundreds of years ago, when Thranduil had first met that mad woman who became his wife, he had seen straight away that the marriage was doomed to failure.  And he had waited then, too.  Everyone had known about their terrible rows and noted how often the queen set out with her young son, Legolas, on extended visits to her Noldor kin. Before the queen’s absences became so frequent that they were commonplace and Thranduil just began to shrug at them, Ethril had done his best to support the king through those initial lonely months quietly bringing food to his apartments when he forgot to eat, playing and singing to him when he seemed distressed, combing his lustrous hair and straightening his garments when he lost interest in his appearance and even disrobing him and helping him to his bed when he had drunk too much wine.  “Thank you, my friend,” the king would say, glad to have such stalwart retainers among the elf lords at his court.

 

But Ethril did none of this out of friendship.  For years he had been obsessed with Thranduil and, by always being at his elbow, he hoped that one day the king would reward him with the pleasure of his body and his bed.  And always he seemed so tantalisingly close.  When he brought him food or sang him songs, Thranduil would reach out and softly squeeze his hand in thanks; when he combed his hair, the king would close his eyes and sigh and ask him not to stop and when he undressed him for bed and suffered the agonising titillation of being so near to that beautiful body which he touched briefly as he laid the elven king between cool, laundered sheets, then Thranduil would reach up and pull his head down towards him and kiss him – but always on the forehead: never on the lips.

 

His immortality gave him patience: in the end, he was confident that his lust would be satisfied.  He thought his moment had come when he saw the queen riding away with her ladies one day – but, this time, without the young Legolas.  He hastened to Thranduil’s apartment and there he found his lord standing by a window with a stunned and blank look on his face.  “She has left me,” he said.  “She has abandoned both me and Legolas.”

 

And Ethril had wrapped him in his arms in such a way that indicated the comfort of a friend.  But, when Thranduil had embraced him back, he had dared to kiss him on the mouth.  For a moment, the king had drawn away, but then he had closed his eyes and had opened his lips to him.  Ethril felt triumphant.  But that triumph was short-lived as the child, Legolas, came running into the room.  The two broke apart and Legolas flung himself weeping into his father’s arms.  “She’s gone!” he cried.  And Ethril felt obliged to withdraw from the room.

 

The whole business was, in fact, a set-back for Ethril.  Thranduil had hidden himself away from the court and even from his son.  And, when he reappeared, he was more distant and more icy than he had ever been before.

 

But there came the time when he had accompanied Thranduil to Erebor.  His king was required to pay homage to Thror and he had intended to set out with the now adult Legolas, a number of his courtiers and a substantial armed guard.  As they made to mount their horses, a tired messenger came riding up with the news that the queen was dead.  Legolas gave his father a stricken look, his eyes full of blame, and strode back into the palace.  Thranduil seemed frozen to the spot for a moment but then mounted his horse, his face stern and set.  The others followed suit and they had ridden off to Erebor.

 

Ethril saw another opportunity here: tonight he would go to the king’s rooms and offer him comfort again.  But an extraordinary and unexpected thing happened.  Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror had stood by his grandfather’s throne and the elf lord could see that this unusually handsome dwarf had drawn the eyes of his king.  He watched Thranduil as Thranduil watched Thorin and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  And when both the dwarf prince and the elven king had retired to their rooms, he had hastened to Thranduil’s chamber, only to find that he wasn’t there.  And he guessed exactly where he must be and had gone back to his own room in a fury.

 

He had hardly slept that night, imagining the two of them together.  But, then a servant had summoned him to the courtyard where he found that Thranduil was leaving, even before the dawn.  And he grinned to himself when he saw the look on his king’s face.  There was hope for him yet.

 

Half-way home, and the dragon had come, sweeping over their heads, making the trees bend in a terrifying way; and Thranduil had turned his army back towards the Mountain.  The sight that met their eyes was a dreadful one: Dale and Erebor were devastated and dwarven refugees flooded the plain.  He could see Thorin and the dwarf looked up and waved frantically to them.  But, Thranduil had given him a cold stare and turned his back on him.  Good, Ethril had thought.  And then they had returned to the palace of Mirkwood.

 

That night, Ethril had gone to Thranduil’s rooms in an optimistic mood and he was finally rewarded.  It was obvious that Thorin had rejected him and he was in a fury.  The elf lord was hardly in the room before he was pushed up against the door and the king was kissing him passionately.  It was all to do with revenge, of course: revenge on Thorin.  But Ethril had enjoyed the angry – even violent – night that he spent in the elven king’s bed.  At last!  And he looked forward to many more nights as the king’s lover.

 

But, when the morning came, he awoke to find Thranduil already dressed.  And then he had quietly and politely apologised and said that it would never happen again, before making his exit from the room.

 

The king had withdrawn from his court again and, when he had reappeared, it was as if that night had never happened and they were back to being just good friends again.  He became more distant still and ordered his court to stay within the confines of Mirkwood and have nothing to do with the outside world.  And so things had dragged on until, years later, the dwarf had made a reappearance as Thranduil’s prisoner.

 

He never had found out what occurred in the dungeons, although he could imagine.  But things happened very quickly after that: the dwarves had escaped, Smaug had been slain, a great battle had been fought and, suddenly, the kings were an inseparable pair.

 

Ethril felt frustrated and angry: all his years of hard work had gone to waste and now Thranduil spent much of his time in Erebor and the elf lord was reduced to a life of waiting once more.  That one time had definitely not been enough: it had only sharpened his desire, provoked further by a brief split between the pair when Thranduil had asked him to ‘play’ at being his lover so that Thorin would believe that he had truly lost him.  The kisses they had shared were a reminder of what could be between them and the elf lord was determined not to give up his pursuit.

 

.o00o.

 

Balance

 

Meanwhile, back in Erebor, Thranduil and Thorin were coming to the end of a happy two weeks.  The elven king had shame-facedly confessed to Brangwyn his foolish jealousy of her and she had hugged and kissed them both.

 

“What shall we do with you?” she tutted.

 

“Perhaps it’s time for us to find you a husband so that you can be removed from the sphere of availability,” laughed Thorin.

 

“But the problem is,” she said with furrowed brow, “would I prefer a beautiful elven husband or a handsome dwarf?  You two have raised the stakes.”  And they went merrily down to dine together.

 

Brangwyn encouraged them to spend a lot of time with the dwarven courtiers and with Thorin’s old Company, who had really missed him in the previous year, and even to make frequent appearances in the town of Dale as it was rebuilt from the rubble.  “It is good for the people to know you,” Brangwyn advised Thorin, “and for them to see you with Thranduil too, so that they will accept your relationship and also be more ready to accept Dain’s son as your heir.

 

And she was right because the dwarves became more tolerant and even approving of Thranduil as he moved among them and charmed them with his smiles, his pleasant words and his apparent admiration for dwarven culture.  And if he had chosen their king above all others, surely that showed his appreciation of Erebor and its people?

 

And after two weeks, they set out for Mirkwood together.  Brangwyn came to kiss them both goodbye and raised a warning finger: “Now don’t you two go shutting yourself away in Thranduil’s apartments.  Mix with the elves as you have done with the dwarves and I am sure that you will win their hearts too.”

 

Thorin wasn’t so sure about that but he knew they had to try.

 

They stopped in the sunlit glade next to the pool and there they made love.  Afterwards, as they lay entwined in each other’s arms, Thorin sighed and said:  “I hope that wasn’t our last happy moment again.  I rather fear the elf lords and how they will treat us.  They obviously think that a dwarf is no suitable match for their king.”

 

“I think,” pondered Thranduil, “that perhaps we should marshall some help.  Ethril, my ‘sophisticated friend’, as you would call him, has been my staunch supporter over many years.  You must turn to him for help, if help you need.”

 

And, Thorin, remembering how the beautiful elf lord had kissed Thranduil and gazed at him tauntingly, frowned at the idea of asking him for help.

 

But, Thranduil laughed.  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, “but he is a good actor and put on that little love scene at my request.  He would do anything for me, you know, and, by extension, for you.”

 

And, Thorin decided that perhaps this was so and pulled his lover to him once more and managed to forget the lingering kisses that had passed between the king and his retainer.

 

.o00o.

 

When Ethril saw his king arriving with the dwarf, he was disappointed and angry, for, many times over the past year, Thranduil had returned alone.  But he moved forward smilingly and greeted them both.

 

And the elven king drew him to one side and said: “I need your help, my friend.  We have decided that we shall no longer hide away in my chambers but will mingle with all who dwell within Mirkwood.  Only in this way will they accept my relationship with Thorin.  But, in this attempt, we shall need your assistance.”

 

“But, of course,” murmured Ethril.  “Just tell me what I must do.”

 

“I want you to befriend Thorin,” he said.  “Stay near him when I am not there and protect him from those who would make him feel unwelcome.”  And, in saying this, Thranduil was thinking of the useful role that Brangwyn had played in the dwarven court and how her presence and acceptance of them had helped to win the dwarf lords over.

 

And so, Thorin often found Ethril at their side and he was always there whenever his lover was not and the dwarf began to enjoy his company.  But Ethril was finding it difficult to be pleasant to the dwarf.  He looked at him and wondered what it was his lord king found so attractive, why he chose Thorin over himself.  He could see that the dwarf was handsome but he could not understand why his bearded features would be more compelling than the beautiful, smooth faces of the elves.  He surreptitiously examined his muscled body with its covering of hair when they went out bathing in the rivers and thought it looked brutal and animalistic.  What was the appeal of that?  He wondered about his performance in bed and if that was the dwarf’s secret.  But the elves had thousands of years of knowledge behind them and he couldn’t believe that the dwarves were any better versed in the ways of pleasing a lover.

 

When Thranduil had asked for his help persuading Thorin that their affair was over so that the dwarven king would get married and produce an heir, he had revealed to Ethril all that he had said and done in his attempts to drive him away: and a major tactic had been to tell Thorin that he was tired of him in his bed and that he could no longer cope with his boring love-making.

 

Ethril smiled to himself and decided that he had found the dwarf’s weak spot.  He would set to work upon that straight away.

 

.o00o.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Agility and Creativity. Ethril finds some novel ways, with the aid of various ancient books on the art of love-making, to undermine Thorin's confidence in himself. Will he manage to trick both Thorin and Thranduil?


	2. Agility and Creativity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethril, the elf lord, goes ahead with his plans to create a rift between Thorin and Thranduil. Will Thorin fall for his schemes and will Thranduil be deceived by the apparent evidence of his own eyes? Probably, or we wouldn't have a story, would we, LOL? Let me know if you are still enjoying this.

Chapter 2

 

Agility

 

Thranduil was busy with his Council and Ethril was in his king’s apartments keeping Thorin entertained.  He was playing his harp and the dwarf was singing – and, in this, at least, the elf lord had to admit that Thorin was possessed of a very beautiful voice – although rather too deep and earthy for his tastes.  They came to the end of the song and Ethril idly cast the harp aside.

 

“Do you mind telling me something?” he asked casually.  And the dwarf waved a permitting hand.

 

“If there are few dwarf women and dwarves are so chaste, how do you find out about the art of love?”

 

“Well, how do you?” grinned Thorin in riposte.

 

“We have libraries full of literature,” he answered, “and we read and learn from a whole range of books.”

 

“Oh,” said Thorin.

 

“So, what do you do?” the elf repeated.  “Do you have books too?”

 

Thorin cleared his throat.

 

“No, no books,” he laughed, trying to look confident.  “I suppose we make it up as we go along.  It’s worked for me and Thranduil.”

 

“Has it?” asked Ethril.  And he injected just the slightest note of doubt into his voice.

 

Thorin remembered how Thranduil had scornfully told him of his unimaginative love-play but, later, had reassured him that it had all been a lie.  And yet, now he wondered.  Then he cleared his throat again.  “Do you think I could see some of these books?” he asked.

 

“But, of course,” smiled the elf lord.  “In fact, I borrowed a couple just the other day and have them in my apartment.  Would you like to look?”

 

Thorin muttered an affirmative and followed him from the room.

 

Ethril’s chambers were elegant and tastefully attired with large windows that looked out over the forest and the river.  He invited Thorin to sit up to a table and then brought out two weighty tomes.  He opened one in front of him and, standing to one side, leaned on his shoulder so that he could turn the pages and look with him.  Thorin swallowed hard.  The books consisted mainly of drawings with a small amount of explanatory text written underneath.

 

“These two volumes,” said the elf lord, “are concerned with love between male and male – something that I, myself, am particularly interested in, just as are you and Thranduil.”

 

The dwarf felt uncomfortable sharing such explicit images with another and wished he had asked to take away the books to his own room.  For, although the elf discussed the drawings in a cool and detached way, pointing to various body parts as if they were in an anatomy lesson, Thorin began to feel aroused as he thought of doing such things to Thranduil or Thranduil to him.

 

But, he also wanted to laugh and finally, as they moved on to the second volume, which the elf lord assured him was for more advanced pupils, laugh was what he did.

 

“Never!” he exclaimed.  “I don’t believe that position is possible.”

 

“Oh, but it is, I assure you,” said the elf lord coolly.

 

Thorin raised a quirky eyebrow.  “So, have you tried it?” he asked in disbelief.

 

“Of course,” was the amused response.  “When you’ve lived an immortal life, then there is time to try most things.”

 

“But, you’ve always implied that you’ve never had a lover,” Thorin pursued.

 

“Not exactly,” smiled Ethril.  “But many of us, whilst we wait for that special One, experiment with the help of friends.”

 

Thorin pulled a shocked face.  With friends?!  Somehow it didn’t seem right.  And seeing his look, Ethril gave a rather patronising smile so that the dwarf became aware of the elf’s age and it made him feel very young and inexperienced.

 

“Don’t look so shocked,” he said, leaning forward to shut the book so that his face was very close to that of Thorin.  “We tended not to go all the way, you know: just used each other to practise taking up the appropriate positions.  And I have had one lover in all this time…”  And a distant look came into his eyes as he thought of that one night with Thranduil.  “And he appeared more than satisfied.  So, the practice must have paid off.”

 

Then he bustled around, packing the books away, pouring them both a glass of wine and changing the subject.

 

.o00o.

 

Thranduil came home very late from the Council meeting, totally exhausted.  He fell into bed and went straight to sleep whilst Thorin brooded on their love-making.  Many of the drawings flashed before his eyes and he wondered if the elven king would enjoy it if he tried out some new idea.  But, he didn’t have the confidence.  He knew he would fumble and perhaps his lover – so much more experienced than he – would laugh.  And he began to understand why Ethril and the other courtiers had practised down the centuries.

 

And, worst of all, he brooded on his ignorance.  Exactly how boring was he?  And, even if Thranduil were being kind to him at the moment, how long would he tolerate such a naïve lover before he went in search of one who could offer him a far more entertaining night in bed?  Those books had shown him the possibilities – possibilities far beyond his own simple imagination – and now he felt completely inadequate and miserable.

 

.o00o.

 

Creativity

 

Thranduil was up early for another long session with the Council the next day and he left Thorin with many wretched thoughts buzzing around his head.  Really, he should have joined all the elf lords in the main hall, but foolishly, he kept to Thranduil’s apartments, just as Brangwyn had warned him not to, and thought long and hard about his relationship with the king.  He knew he couldn’t bear to lose him, and so, when Ethril knocked on the door late that afternoon to see if he could be useful in any way, Thorin decided to ask for his help.  After all, that was what the elven king had told him he must do.

 

Hesitantly, he said: “Those books, Ethril….”  And, when he trailed off, the elf lord raised an enquiring eyebrow.  “I want to please Thranduil as best I may…….and I think I need your help.”

 

Ethril leaned forward and placed his hand on Thorin’s.  “You know that this is what I am here for,” he said softly.

 

Thorin looked at him earnestly.  “If you see me as a friend,” he said, “then perhaps you can give me lessons in love.”

 

The elf lord felt like leaping to his feet and clapping his hands gleefully.  Instead: “It would be my pleasure,” he said smoothly.  But, not too much, too quickly, he thought.  We don’t want to frighten you away, do we?  “Perhaps we can start with a small lesson in touching,” he suggested.

 

Thorin nodded but looked quite anxious.  Ethril had intended to push him and ask that he strip off all his clothes but then he decided only to suggest that he take off his breeches and shirt so that he was still modestly covered by his loincloth.  When this was done, he gave him a little talk about sensitive points on the body other than the obvious ones, delicately touching each spot with a long, elegant finger and talking like a teacher.  Nothing in his voice was suggestive and Thorin began to relax.  Then he stripped off his own outer garments and, to test if Thorin had learned his lesson, asked him to go through what he had just shown him which Thorin did assiduously, his brow furrowed with such concentration that the elf nearly laughed.

 

“Now,” he said, “close your eyes and pretend that I am Thranduil.  Then touch me as if I am your lover.”

 

This was easy for Thorin to imagine since Ethril was a similar height and build.  The elf lord stood very close and Thorin caressed him, trying hard to find those particular points on his body that he hoped would rouse the elven king.  He did this so effectively that it was Ethril who was startled.

 

It hadn’t occurred to him, since he found the dwarf so unattractive, that he would be stirred in any way.  But, as he had lightly touched Thorin’s body in the initial demonstration and had felt those muscles ripple beneath his hand and the silken feel of his soft body hair he had been caught off guard at how he had responded.  And now that Thorin was standing so close that he could smell him, he discovered that he was far from being repulsed by this, and as his long, black hair lightly brushed the elf lord's chest, his heart beat faster and he slid his arms loosely around the dwarf’s waist.  And Thorin reached out and touched him tenderly in all the right places and Ethril’s breathing began to quicken.

 

“Very good,” he said sharply and stepped abruptly away.

 

Thorin opened his eyes and asked anxiously: “Was that alright?”

 

“Yes, excellent,” muttered Ethril, pulling on his clothes, “but I really must go now.”  And he hurried from the room feeling quite disturbed.

 

Thranduil came home late and tired again but Thorin was waiting for him in bed with a certain determination.  When the king slipped between the sheets , he pulled him gently into his arms and began to touch and kiss him just as Ethril had shown him that afternoon.  And, much to his delight, Thranduil was soon writhing and gasping with pleasure and his ecstasy culminated in an intense and passion-filled night.  When the elf was finally lying exhausted in the dwarf’s arms, he had time to realise that something had been different in Thorin’s love-making….And he wondered drowsily where he had learned these new techniques before falling into a deep sleep.

 

.o00o.

 

Ethril had had a bad night but he was still determined to carry out his plan.  Tomorrow there was no meeting of the Council but he knew that Thranduil was riding out with his son, Legolas, that morning and he intended to be prepared for his return.

 

He sauntered along to Thranduil’s chambers and, when Thorin opened the door, he grinned and said, “Well?”

 

Thorin grinned back.  “No complaints,” he said rather diffidently.

 

“How about another lesson, then?” Ethril offered and Thorin nodded eagerly.

 

And so, this time, stripped to their loin-cloths once more, they tried a few interesting positions.  At first Thorin felt vaguely embarrassed and then he began to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.  “I hope that Thranduil appreciates what I’m going through in order to give him a night of pleasure,” he chuckled.  And Estril tried to laugh too but he still found the dwarf’s nearness very disturbing and, besides, he was listening out very carefully for the sound of Thranduil’s return.

 

They were on the bed in the chamber adjacent to the main room.  Ethril had deliberately left the intervening door wide open and was careful to position Thorin with his back to it.  His elven ears, so much sharper than those of dwarves, were alert to sounds coming to him over a distance.  And when he was sure he could hear the elven king’s footsteps approaching down the corridor, he suggested to Thorin that the dwarf gave him a demonstration of his kissing technique.  Thorin complied, insecure as he was about everything at the moment and keen to know that, in this at least, he was a passable lover.

 

And so, he did not see Thranduil come into the outer room and stand stock still as he saw his lover and his friend kissing almost naked on the bed.  He froze on the spot for one moment and then turned and silently slipped from the room. 

 

“No problems there,” said Ethril, rising from the bed and getting dressed.  And Thorin was happy that, at least in this simple act, he passed muster.

 

Ethril smiled as he imagined Thranduil’s response.  Thorin would soon be gone from his king’s life and then, when Thranduil confronted him, he would throw himself at the elven king’s feet, begging for forgiveness and telling him how Thorin had seduced him.  Of course, he would say, he had been afraid to refuse his advances because Thorin had threatened to take lies to Thranduil about coercion and forced intercourse.  That should do it.  The king would be so distressed that he would be desperate for comfort and Ethril would offer it to him.  And, pausing to fantasise for a moment about the elven king’s long, lithe body writhing against his own once more, he recalled in vivid detail that one time before: he could still hear that seductive voice moaning in his ear and feel those clever hands working on his body, and, most of all, he remembered the silken hardness that had pressed up against his belly and between his thighs.

 

And, if this particular ploy didn’t meet with success, well, he had the endless years which would doubtless work in his favour.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin didn’t see Thranduil all day and, when he thought to ask Legolas where his father had gone after the ride, his son just muttered and said: “More meetings, I expect.”  And it was so late before the elf finally returned that Thorin was already in bed.  He slipped quietly into the darkened room and when he got into the bed, he was careful to keep to the far side of the mattress.  He had shut himself away in the distant recesses of his palace for hours, thinking about what he had seen.  He had been unjustly jealous once before and his reaction had been very violent.  He didn’t want to make a mistake this time.  But, however often he turned things over in his mind, he could think of no innocent reason to explain what he had seen going on in his bed that morning.

 

But, he assured himself, this time he would demonstrate only a measured reaction, although it was proving very difficult because his lover had rolled towards him and had taken him in his arms.  Now, he was making all sorts of salacious suggestions in his ear which, in some ways were arousing but, in others, sickened the elf lord to the pit of his stomach.  Where did these ideas originate?  He could only have got them from Ethril.  And the king murmured that he had to go to sleep and, after turning away from a disappointed Thorin, stayed awake for the rest of the night.

 

Thranduil arose early and, when Thorin finally emerged sleepily from the bedroom, he told him coolly that there were so many emergency meetings of the Council in the coming week that he thought it best that the dwarf returned to Erebor.  And when Thorin stepped forward to kiss him and to say that he didn’t mind staying, even if the king were not there most of the time, Thranduil just turned away and suggested that he left that morning.

 

Thorin was baffled and confused.  There was something wrong, he knew it.  But Thranduil would discuss it no further.  He was at a meeting when Thorin was ready to leave.  The dwarf wrote a loving letter and left it on the bed but finally set out from Mirkwood with only Ethril standing at the gate to say goodbye to him.

 

.o00o.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter: Prostration. Well, I reckon that the only person who can sort this pair out is Brangwyn. Come back next week and find out how she does it!


	3. Prostration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just back from a showing of DoS!! And who were the most gorgeous characters in the film? Thorin and Thranduil, of course!
> 
> So, Thorin and Thranduil have got themselves into a mess. Will Ethril succeed with his plan or can Brangwyn the dwarf woman dig them out of the hole they have dug themselves into?

Prostration

 

Thorin had a long and lonely ride back to Erebor and then he went in search of Brangwyn.

 

“Back so soon?” she asked.  “And on your own?  Is there a problem?”  Somehow, she always knew.  And he told her about the odd way that Thranduil had practically dismissed him from the elven court.

 

“Yes, that is odd,” she pondered.  “And are you telling me everything, Thorin?”

 

And no, he wasn’t.  But, in the end, feeling rather embarrassed, he told her about the books and the lessons in love that he had been taking with Ethril.  “Do you think that was a miscalculation?” he asked anxiously.  “Perhaps he has been repulsed by my new ideas or perhaps he has found my attempts pathetic and can no longer tolerate me in his bed.”  And he rather shamefacedly reminded her of the remark about his inadequacies that Thranduil had used to create the original split between them.

 

Brangwyn had been staring at him with her mouth open ever since he had started telling her about Ethril’s lessons.  “And is this the elf lord who pretended to be Thranduil’s lover when he was holding you at bay?” 

 

Yes, nodded Thorin.

 

Brangwyn sat there for a moment, lost in thought.  And then she stood up and gave Thorin a hug.  “I want you to go to bed now,” she said sternly, “and try to get some sleep.  Unfortunately, I have planned to visit my father tomorrow, but, I promise you, by the time I come back, all shall be well.”

 

“And what magic spell will you use to bring that about?” asked Thorin wanly.

 

“Oh, I don’t need magic spells,” she said.  “Only common sense.”

 

.o00o.

 

Yes, thought Brangwyn, as she rode out on her horse, she would pay her father a brief visit as she had promised, but only on the way back from Mirkwood.  She was feeling rather angry and her jaw was set as she marched into Thranduil’s hall whilst he and his elf lords were sitting down to dine.

 

Would her attempt to gain an audience with Thranduil be rebuffed rather like Thorin’s attempt when the elven king had tried to break with him?  And yes, it was.

 

“Ah, Brangwyn Valasdottir,” said the king coolly, with none of the warmth or affection that had grown between them in recent weeks.  “Have you come with a message from Thorin Oakenshield?”  And his icy voice implied that any such message would not be welcome.

 

“No,” said Brangwyn in steely tones.  “I bring a message from myself and request an audience.”

 

Thranduil began to make a motion with his hand about the room but Brangwyn stopped him.

 

“And, lord king,” she snapped, “I want none of that rubbish about us all being friends in this hall; for I have no friends here.”  And she glared around the room.  “I seek a private audience and you should be gracious enough to give it me.”

 

Thranduil stared at her for a long moment and then, without a word, he stood up and swept from the room with Brangwyn in his wake.

 

.o00o.

 

When he had entered his apartments and shut the door behind them, the elven king turned around and said sharply: “Well, what is it you want, Brangwyn?  If you come to plead for Thorin, then, this time, you are wasting your breath because, with my own eyes, I saw him lying nearly naked on my bed in the arms of Ethril, the elf lord.”

 

“Ah,” said Brangwyn calmly, “that explains a lot.  And have you asked either of them for an explanation?”  And she shook her head at the tangled web that Thorin had trapped himself in.

 

“There is nothing to explain,” he snapped.  “I have discussed it with neither because I cannot bear the lies and excuses that both will tell me.”  And he raised his hand to his eyes as if in pain as he thought of his friend and his lover together.

 

“Just tell me one thing, Thranduil,” said Brangwyn thoughtfully, sitting down and straightening her skirts.  And when the king didn’t answer but turned to stand at the window, she continued: “Just tell me about this ancient custom that involves elven friends learning about the art of love from each other.”

 

Thranduil turned with a confused look on his face.  “What ancient custom?” he said.

 

“Ah,” laughed Brangwyn, “I thought as much.  I’m talking about that ancient custom where, after reading huge tomes on sexual practice, friends get together to try out various ideas with each other so that, when they find the love of their lives, they will know precisely how to give pleasure without making fools of themselves and without being thought _boring_.”

 

“What are you talking about, woman?” snapped Thranduil.  “The only books we have on the subject are too salacious for common use and are locked away in our libraries.  And I find the thought of friends using friends to practise on, for goodness’ sake, to be quite abhorrent.”

 

Brangwyn smiled sweetly.  “Well, perhaps you don’t realise,” she said, “that your friend – you know, that friend whom you told Thorin would always give him help if he needed it – anyway, that friend has somehow managed to get hold of those salacious books – you know, those books which are always locked away – and has used them to make Thorin feel inadequate about his love-making – you know, that love-making that you once told him was very boring?”

 

She paused a moment for breath and Thranduil looked at her as if a coin was very gradually dropping.

 

“And then, there’s that ancient custom – you know, that ancient custom where friends practise the art of love together?”

 

“He wouldn’t be so stupid,” gasped Thranduil.

 

“Oh, yes, he would,” replied the dwarf woman, “especially when his lover and his lover’s friend manage to set him up between them.  I wonder why they were ‘making love’ in your apartments with the door wide open and where Ethril could see you the moment you walked into the room, but Thorin couldn’t?  He had no idea that you were there and has been thinking ever since you turfed him out of Mirkwood that you were either repulsed or were laughing at his newly-acquired techniques.  Haven’t you caused him and yourself enough pain?”

 

“I’ll kill him!” cried Thranduil, his hand going to his sword.

 

“Which one?” asked Brangwyn tartly.

 

“Ethril, of course,” he snarled.

 

“Oh, yes,” mused Brangwyn.  “I think I remember hearing about an elven king who lusted after a dwarf so much that he went to extraordinary lengths to make him his, even imprisoning him in his dungeons where he meant to take him by force.  In what way is Ethril’s passion for you any different from your passion for Thorin?  And you must ask yourself if, over the centuries, you have given him any encouragement.”

 

And Thranduil sank down upon a chair with his head in his hands and thought about that night of anger and lust that he had spent with Ethril as an act of revenge upon Thorin.

 

“What shall I do?” he whispered.

 

“You must send Ethril away to Elrond’s court where he is no longer tormented by seeing you every day.  Perhaps there he will find someone worthy of his interest.  And early tomorrow, we shall both set out together: I shall visit my father and you shall find Thorin and explain to him everything that has been going on behind his back.  And then you will humbly offer him your love.”

 

“Dearest Brangwyn,” said Thranduil, reaching out to clasp her hand.  “What would we do without you?”

 

.o00o.

 

They parted at the crossroads before they reached Erebor.  “Good luck,” said Brangwyn.  And Thranduil silently kissed her hand.

 

The elven king entered the great courtyard of Erebor apprehensively, wondering how Thorin would greet him.  But Thorin came running down the steps and, throwing his arms about him, kissed him on the lips.  “You’ve come,” he murmured and Thranduil could hear the love and the relief in his voice.

 

“Yes, I have come,” he replied.  “And I should never have sent you away.”

 

Five minutes later, in Thorin’s apartments, they embraced more passionately still.  Then Thranduil stood back and drew forth from out his shirt the love letter that Thorin had written him and left upon his bed before leaving.  “I have carried this against my heart,” he said softly, “and I have read it countless times every day.”  Then he told him all about Ethril’s plot and asked for forgiveness because he had believed him.

 

“Who wouldn’t have believed him?” responded Thorin.  “I was likewise stupid enough to believe his stories.  So, we are two fools together.”

 

“But, fools in love,” murmured Thranduil.  And he took him in his arms.

 

Then, after some blissful minutes, the elven king whispered in Thorin’s ear and said: “Now, take me to your bed and show me all those interesting techniques you learned from the books and from Ethril.”

 

So, Thorin took Thranduil to his bed and he showed him how to kiss and how to touch and how to bend his body into impossible positions…..but, most of all, he showed him how to love.

 

“That,” sighed the elven king, “was the best moment of all by far.”

 

And, filled with the gift of love, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

.o00o.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Story: The Kings and the Princes. Thorin and Thranduil are spending too much time in bed with each other and not enough time 'kinging'. And so they come up with a cunning plan which will get their heirs, Legolas and Dain's son, in on the act and relieve them of their duties.
> 
> There will be 12 stories in total.

**Author's Note:**

> Next Chapter: Agility and Creativity. Ethril finds some novel ways, with the aid of various ancient books on the art of love-making, to undermine Thorin's confidence in himself. Will he manage to trick both Thorin and Thranduil?


End file.
